Amnesia
by Chellero
Summary: Reese loses his memory. Carter helps him cope.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N_**

 _Wolfmusic218: Soooooo...are you writing anything?_

 _Me: Nope. Haven't had a single idea._

 _Wolfmusic218: You should be writing something._

 _Me: Come up with a good plot and I'll try._

 _Five milliseconds later..._

 _Wolfmusic218: Usually Carter's the one with amnesia. How about a story where Reese has amnesia?_

 _My muse: Hmmm..._

 _So this was all wolfmusic218's fault. I'm not sure I want to thank her for that LOL, but I will thank her for making me keep at it every time I shelved it, and for the unpaid cheerleading, kind words, and editing wizardry. :)_

* * *

"Well, let me know what you get." Joss Carter sighed softly and nodded at the medical examiner, backing away from the body as her thoughts traveled over all the facts she'd established thus far. It didn't matter how many murders she'd had to investigate; she never got used to it. The smell of senseless death, the ache she felt for the loved ones left behind, the sharp need to give those loved ones an answer to those burning questions: who and why?

Her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket and she took it out to see who was calling. Unknown. It had been three or four days since she'd heard from either of them. Whatever they wanted right now was going to have to wait, or they'd have to get with Fusco. She took several steps away from the victim and her colleagues. "Carter."

"Evening, Detective."

It was Finch.

"You're still working?"

"Crime never sleeps, Finch. What's up?"

"Well…"

Carter's curiosity piqued immediately at his slight hesitation.

"...this is more of a courtesy call, Detective."

She frowned. "Okaaaaay."

"It's John. He's had an accident."

Her stomach hit the concrete and her heart started pounding. The feeling startled and upset her, but the worry superseded her feelings about her worry. "Is he okay?" Her voice trembled but she was too scared to care that Finch had probably heard it.

"He will be, we're quite certain. I'm calling because...well, he suffered a head injury and he….doesn't remember...quite a lot of things."

She let out the breath she'd been holding. He was alive. He'd be okay. But her face contorted in question. "Amnesia?"

"I'm afraid so, Detective."

She knew it happened in real life and not just on soap operas. But it was still unbelievable. John? Her John with amnesia? A million questions raced through her mind as she tried to process it. "Is it bad? Did he lose a few days or…..?"

"Years."

He sounded incredulous himself and she almost dropped her phone, self-consciously looking around to see if anyone was paying her any attention. "Are you serious, Finch?"

"Quite serious, Detective. When he came to, he thought he was still employed by the CIA. He doesn't remember any of us."

 _Oh my God._ She was rendered temporarily speechless. A pang hit her as his words impacted and she realized John wouldn't know who she was anymore. It felt like a piece of her was missing already and she was entirely too uncomfortable with the feeling. When had that infuriating man gotten to her like this? "Sorry, Harold. I just….I don't know what to say. This is…."

"Fantastical, Detective, I know. But I've given him as much information as he can handle for the moment. We're taking it one day at a time."

"How'd it happen? When?"

"An altercation. He was struck on the head. Fortunately, I was nearby when it happened."

"When?"

"A couple of days ago."

She bristled at not having been told until now before she reminded herself that she wasn't John's girlfriend nor his keeper. When an officer signaled to her, she remembered she had a job to do. "I gotta go, Finch. Can I... Can I see him when I get finished here?"

"Of course. Your visit may even help him. I'll text you his address. I'm here with him now."

"Okay. Thanks." She hung up, staring at the phone in her hand for a brief moment before joining the officer and trying to get finished with the initial part of her investigation as quickly as she could.

* * *

Joss took in her surroundings as she walked down the hallway toward John's home. It was a nice building. Looked like it housed those artsy type studios where the tenants lived where they created. Which she could _not_ imagine John living in. Perhaps that was the point. But she'd know in a few seconds.

She knocked on the door and waited, surprised at the slight anxiety she was feeling. He wouldn't know her, know anything about what they'd been through. She couldn't use her sarcasm or snark on him, couldn't tease him lest he took it in a way it wasn't meant. Their rapport would be gone. They had fallen into it easily enough before, but now….would he even like her, meeting her under new circumstances?

The door opened and suddenly she was relieved to only see Harold. He made a move to step outside and she took a step back to give him room. He left the door open.

"Detective."

"Is he in there?"

"Safe and sound."

She nodded. "So, have you told him about me? Who I am?"

It was Harold's turn to nod. "Yes, he knows you assist with our… project. And that you and Detective Fusco are with the NYPD."

 _Okay_ , she thought. _Not much._ But, then, there was probably a whole hell of a lot Harold had needed to fill John in on, especially if he woke up thinking he was still in the CIA. Now she was even more unnerved, unsure of how to act. She'd never been around anyone who'd lost all recollection of her knowing them. And this was John. Who had that shell that kept her from knowing all that much about him even two years later. The one he'd put on display when she first met him. How impenetrable would that shell be now? She suddenly wished she'd had more time to research this kind of amnesia before she came over. Maybe she should have waited until Fusco was able to come with her. Maybe seeing the two of them together would jog something within him. And it sure as hell would have taken some of the pressure off her.

"Is he up and around?"

"Yes, but he is restless." Harold glanced at his watch. "I do have some matters to attend to so if you wouldn't mind staying as long as you're able, I'd be very appreciative, Detective."

That hadn't been what she wanted to hear. "He's not allowed to leave?"

Finch looked exasperated. "He is, and he has. Physically, he's only been dealing with a severe headache. I'd simply prefer he didn't venture off on his own too far. However…"

"He's still John."

"Precisely, Detective."

She let out a whoosh of air. "Okay. Let's do this."

She followed Finch into the apartment and took the spacious loft in as she trailed behind him. The place still didn't look like John, but what did she know? They went around a corner and she finally saw him, sitting at a bar stool. It looked like he'd just finished eating and was watching ESPN on the television mounted in the corner.

She stood awkwardly beside Finch as he made the introduction. "John, this is Joss Carter, the detective who joins us in our cases. She's partnered with Detective Fusco."

John immediately stood up from the stool. She saw a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes before they began studying her face. Damn, Finch hadn't been lying about this whole thing; John really didn't know her. She smiled to put him at ease, genuinely glad to see him in one piece. He walked over until he stood in front her, slowly reaching his hand out to shake hers and she was struck by how strange the gesture was. She hadn't shaken his hand when she first met him, had she? Nevertheless, she raised hers to grasp his proffered one. His handshake was firm and he wouldn't stop staring into her eyes. She decided at that moment that it must be intimidating as hell for people meeting him for the first time. She had had the advantage of being in the power position when she first met him at the station, and he had been at a low point, so his intensity wasn't as severe. Even so, his eyes had stood out to her. Discerning and bright, with a hint of mischief. He had seen and done a lot, that could not have been clearer, but he was nowhere near dead behind the eyes. There was still life in them. Curiosity and heart. She was seeing the same thing when she looked into them now and the feeling of déjà vu swept over her. She also saw more in them when his eyes briefly dipped to her mouth, and her brain recognized it, but she wouldn't give it consideration with all the other thoughts rushing through her mind.

He held onto her hand longer than normal, and for a moment she got excited that he might be starting to recognize her as his gaze lingered. But he slowly slipped his hand from hers and stepped back. He nodded toward his empty plate. "Uh, would you like something to eat? Drink?"

"Um, water would be good, thank you."

He nodded and took a few more seconds to look at her before he turned to walk into his kitchen. She turned and shared a look with Finch. He'd sensed the...weirdness, too.

Harold cleared his throat. "Detective, if you'll excuse me, I do have some brief matters to attend to." He turned to John. "Mr. Reese, I'll return momentarily." Finch then smiled encouragingly at her and John acknowledged his departure with a nod as he stood filling her glass at the refrigerator door.

John walked back over to where Carter stood, both of them watching Finch leave until they had no choice but to face one another and this bizarre situation again. He handed her the glass and gestured with his hand toward the couch. "Please, have a seat."

He watched her from behind as she walked to the couch. She had not been what he expected. He had not been expecting someone so attractive. He wondered what kind of help she offered the clandestine group he apparently belonged to. The work was pretty dangerous if his predicament was any indication. She was small, curvy, with full lips and kind eyes. No wedding ring. Sensibly dressed. And very pretty. And even though he knew she was a cop and worked with them, he found himself wanting to protect her. This Joss Carter, NYPD Detective.

Carter had to force herself not to slide further down the couch when he sat down closer than she'd expected. She took a sip of water, preparing to keep him company while Finch was gone. She wasn't sure why, but she had the distinct impression that, while he was getting to know her again, she was going to learn more than she was ready to learn from him.

He broke the silence. "So, you help with this… mission. You're a cop. How does that work?"

Comfortable with this line of questioning, she shrugged. "Sometimes the lawful way isn't enough. I got to see firsthand how you guys—you and Finch—save lives by stopping things before they happen. I work homicide…..sometimes…..I wish I didn't have to."

Reese took his eyes away from her and nodded. "It's good to know I'm….helping people."

He turned back to her, suddenly wondering how much she knew about what he did with the CIA. He couldn't imagine having told her anything. He probably hadn't since she was here, since a woman like her was in the life he couldn't remember.

She noticed his sudden reticence. "You have, John. Saved a lot of people. Including me."

He perked up at that and relaxed a bit. "Is that how we met? You were one of Finch's numbers?"

She did a double-take. It was the first time she'd heard of them referencing the people they helped as "numbers." As much as she wanted to know, it didn't seem right to get the information out of him this way. "Uh, John, I don't know how you guys get your information. I have my suspicions, and I want to know, but….you guys haven't told me—or Fusco—for a reason."

Reese frowned at that. Finch had told him the "machine" couldn't be shared with anyone. And apparently that included Joss. She could have gotten the information out of him just now, but she didn't. His expression softened as his eyes roamed her face. "It's probably to keep you safe."

Damn, she wished he would stop looking at her like that. Like he had when he shook her hand. Like he wanted to get to know her in _every_ way. She needed to help him remember. What he did, who she was and, most importantly, what their uncomplicated relationship was. "That's not how we met. But it was when I knew I could trust you." A slow smirk crept across his face and she wanted to smile. That was the John she knew.

"You didn't trust me before?" A twinkle in his eye accompanied the smirk. Then they both disappeared as quickly as they came. Because he'd just met her and he already felt he could trust her. He wondered if it had gone that way the first time around.

When the humor fell from his features, she forged ahead. "I wasn't sure what you were up to. You had been brought down to the station after beating down some guys who were harassing you. An officer wanted me to see the video of you taking them all down. After I saw it, I wanted to talk to you, get your prints. I knew you were military—I was, too, so I wanted to see—"

"You were military?"

She paused and cautiously met his eyes. "Interrogator. Warrant officer. Ivy Division."

He felt himself becoming even more enamored with her. "One of the best, I'm sure."

Carter looked down and blushed, brushing his compliment off. "I took your prints and got a lot of crime scene database hits."

"I gave you my prints?" Why was he not surprised she got them out of him? He watched as she grew pensive.

"Not exactly. I gave you a cup of water so I could get them. Just to see if I could get away with it. I always wondered why you let me." She shrugged her shoulder. "I guess you can't tell me now anyway if you wanted to.

"Anyway, long story short, your lawyer—probably Finch's—sprung you before I could question you. Then I believe you started working with him and leaving me attempted murderers to arrest while not showing your face since you knew I would arrest you." She sighed. "Then one day, my CI turned on me, and you came out of nowhere and saved my life. Somehow, you knew something was going to happen to me."

"I'm glad I did." When she met his eyes, he held them and her soft smile of well-worn gratitude warmed his heart. "I take it you didn't arrest me." When the smile fell from her face, his eyes squinted in curiosity and concern.

She knew she couldn't skip what happened next and the guilt came rushing back. It was bound to take her down several pegs in his eyes when she was trying to make a decent first impression, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he would stop looking at her like she'd hung the moon. "Finch tell you about Mark Snow?"

Reese nodded. "I know he's dead. How do you know about him?"

"He found out you'd been contacting me and wanted me to lead you to him. He said you were dangerous, that he wanted to bring you in to get you off the streets, to help you. You had just saved my life, but…." She sighed as she recalled the turmoil she had been under at the time. "It was CIA business I didn't want any part of, and your prints were at domestic crime scenes, and you were going around kneecapping people, being a vigilante, and I just…"

"You turned me over to him."

Even though there was no anger behind his words, it sounded even worse when he said it out loud. She suddenly couldn't look at him and nodded in response. "He tried to kill you. His partner shot you twice. You got away but, I still feel terrible about it."

Reese nodded, having noticed some unrecognizable scars on his body. He reached out and touched the side of her face, to comfort her and because he wanted to. Turning her face to his, he tossed a lopsided grin at her. "How did you make it up to me?"

She turned her head away and chuckled, his hand falling from her cheek. Then she sobered and turned back to him. "I'm still trying to."

"I don't think you need to." John couldn't help it as his eyes drifted toward her lips again. There was more he needed to know about her, about them. More that didn't have anything to do with what they were talking about. He was finding himself extremely attracted to this woman, and they did work together. He wasn't a stranger to sleeping with his partner or any of the other beautiful women he'd come across in his work as an agent. Had they ever slept together? Had they ever had anything more? Had he tried and she shut him down?

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs as he turned his head to continue to watch her. "How long have you been a detective?"

"About five years now."

"Native New Yorker?"

She nodded. "Grew up outside of Albany."

"Siblings?"

She smiled to herself. He hadn't bothered asking her these things before; Finch had likely dug into her background and told him before he could. "Only child."

"Parents still here?"

"Just my mom."

"Does she live here?"

Joss nodded.

John looked down at his fingernails. "Married?"

"Divorced."

"Seeing anyone?"

 _Shit. Why is he asking that?_

When she didn't answer, he shifted and leaned against the back of the couch, arm stretched out across the top. "I'm sorry. I'm just wondering….about us."

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nothing to wonder. We're just friends. Nothing else."

John nodded. "Mm. Ever?"

 _Shit._ "Never." He looked disappointed and, quite frankly, she hadn't wanted that validation. John had always done things, looked at her a certain way, that made her wonder what he ultimately wanted from her. And with him acting the way he was now, when he knew nothing about the boundaries they had in place, it was a potential mess she needed to avert as quickly as possible.

She knew one sure-fire way to do so. "In fact, I think you're seeing someone. Her name is Zoe. She helps you guys out on occasion, too."

John unconsciously sat further back, putting some distance between them. He recognized the name from his phone. There were very few numbers in his contacts list, but when he'd asked Finch about Zoe, he said she was an asset. Why would he leave something like "girlfriend" out? Why hadn't he seen Zoe in the days since his accident? Why had Joss made a point to see him and not his girlfriend? Why not even a phone call? He was missing something there and Joss wasn't going to be the person to ask.

"Any kids?"

"One son. His name's Taylor."

He smiled at that. Joss Carter, NYPD Detective, former military interrogator, single, mother. "How old?"

"Sixteen, going on thirty-five."

They both chuckled before an uncomfortable silence slipped between them.

She chanced a glance at him after a while and the somber look on his face made her concerned. "What's the matter?" She watched as he shrugged his shoulder and stood up.

He walked over to one of the windows and stuck his hands in his pockets as he looked out at the skyline. He shrugged. "Been an interesting few days."

"I can't imagine." When he said nothing further, she wondered if it was time for her to leave. If he'd been bombarded by enough information for one night. She set her glass on a coaster on the end table and rose to her feet. "You should get some rest. Give your brain a break."

He wished he could. Just shut down and stop trying to remember. But he couldn't. It was the loss of control he couldn't handle. He didn't know who he was outside of the CIA. Having to rely on other people to tell him who the hell he was now was the ultimate in powerlessness. He was plotting and killing people alongside Kara a few days ago. They weren't fit to walk amongst regular people. But she, along with Snow, were dead now because of something he still didn't fully understand. He was saving strangers instead of murdering them. And he had good people like Harold and Joss in his life now. He felt he didn't deserve their friendship, their presence, period. But they were there. He was trying to play catch up, but it was impossible to connect with personal things he may as well have just read in a book. The only thing that felt real, the only connection he felt right now was to her. He didn't understand it, the comfort level nor the trust, but it already felt like it was going to be his lifeline.

With his sustained silence, she took several steps toward him. "John?"

He spoke softly. "Do you know what I do—did for the agency?"

She continued walking until she stood beside him in front of the window. She mirrored his action and looked out. "You never told me but I could guess."

"You don't care?"

"Nope. It was a job." She felt his eyes on her and continued. "Besides, you probably wouldn't be as good as you are now if you hadn't."

He shook his head from side to side slowly. "I don't even know why I'm doing what I do now. Finch told me, but…."

"Anybody who risks his life all the time—constantly—to save absolute strangers is….crazy." She turned to look at him. "I've always thought you were crazy, John." She got the small smile out of him she was aiming for and gave it back. "But I don't think you do it just because of what you used to do. Being that crazy means it's always been inside you." She shrugged again and turned to look back out the window. "Just took you some time to find the right outlet. For you." She shook her head. "Because I think it's crazy."

John's grin widened. "Joss."

She turned to him.

"You work with me."

She snorted and turned back to the window. She tried not to tremble when he stepped close to her, so close his front brushed against her side, and whispered, "That means we're crazy together."

It took everything in her not to step away from him, the heat she felt from his body and his warm breath close to her ear. She was not being affected by him. She wasn't. So she wouldn't act like it.

She refused to look at him and put her best effort into speaking clearly. "Touché."

John studied her profile. From the hair on her head to her perfect nose to those lips. To the way she stood ramrod straight while her chest rapidly rose and fell. To the way her quickly blinking eyes purposefully avoided him. There was something there. She felt something, too. Why hadn't they acted on it? What had been holding them back?

He sighed softly and looked out the window again. "Why do you do it?"

Carter shrugged. He hadn't moved away and she was struggling to keep up her cool façade.

"You're risking your job, aren't you? Your freedom? There're safer ways of helping people."

She thought back to Donnelly. _No price. Just helping a friend._ She swallowed right before the confession slipped out. His nearness had weakened her. Dammit. She knew she was going to fail. "I believe in you."

She probably couldn't have said anything that he needed more in that moment. He didn't think. He just reached out and turned her so that she was forced to look at him. Those big, brown eyes searching his, seeing him, knowing him, it overwhelmed him. Made him want that physical connection more than anything. Made him need it. Those beautiful eyes, scared but trusting, those slightly parted lips….

Joss panicked when he started to lean in. Her mind saw danger and the flight response moved her limbs. "I gotta go. Taylor." She moved back over to the couch, finally feeling like she could breathe after escaping his heat, blindly looking for her purse that she soon realized she hadn't brought in. She turned back to him from the now safe distance and spoke while walking backwards toward the front door. "I have to get his dinner started." She watched as he nodded and started after her, probably to walk her out. She wouldn't give him that chance, though. She reached the door and opened it. "Call if you need anything, John. Goodnight."

John stared at the closed door from where he stood in the middle of the empty room. He sighed heavily. "Goodnight, Joss."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"This is it, Mr. Reese." Finch opened the gate to their library headquarters and ushered John inside. Bear greeted the two of them happily before trotting off to his bed.

Reese took a look around. "It's not the Ritz, but… functional."

Finch stood by his desk as Reese walked to the center of the room.

"Joss and Fusco know about this place?"

"They do not."

"What about Zoe?" he hedged.

"You and I are the only ones who know about this. It's simply safer that way."

Reese had his doubts about that but he nodded.

"As I told you before, John, The Machine gives us a number. A social security number of the person or persons about to be involved in a violent crime. However, there is another step involved. Hence the reason we are in a library." Finch held up a book lying on his desk. "It gives us the social security number in code. The Dewey Decimal System to be exact."

"How often do these numbers come?"

"Quite often." Finch moved to sit at his desk. "There have been lulls, but no longer than a few days."

Reese nodded again and walked over to the window. "Joss. She was a number?"

Finch looked up from his computer monitor. "Yes."

"What happened?"

Finch waited a beat before responding. "Detective Carter was targeted by a mob boss. Carl Elias."

"Why?"

"Essentially, for doing her job, Mr. Reese."

"How did we stop it?"

"Elias tried to have her murdered through one of her confidential informants. She was shot but she was wearing her vest. You arrived just in time before he could finish the job. And you sent a… message to Elias that she wasn't to be harmed in any way."

"It worked?"

"You can be very…. persuasive, Mr. Reese."

The corner of John's mouth curled up at that, glad to know he'd put in the extra effort for Joss's protection.

He heard Finch rise from his chair and turned away from the window. He watched as Harold pulled some items from a filing cabinet, walking over as he spread them across the desk.

"These are your various aliases. Driver's licenses, passports, credit cards."

Reese surveyed them. _Just like the agency._

"Earpiece." He handed the device to the former operative. "I take it you've gotten acquainted with John Warren."

"Maybe not acquainted but his ID was in my wallet."

"He's your clean cover. His background includes much of your own. We've had to use it fairly recently, but we'll get into the specifics another time."

Reese could tell there was a significant story there, yet another incident he couldn't remember, but there would be time for that later.

He wandered back over to the window, working his way to what was on his mind. "How does Zoe fit into all this?"

Finch sat back down in his seat, curious about John's line of questioning this morning. "She's a fixer. And a previous number of ours as well. She knows a lot of high people in high places which we've occasionally used to our advantage."

Reese nodded. Still nothing about her being his girlfriend. "Does she know what happened?"

Finch suddenly felt a pang of guilt for not contacting Ms. Morgan. Quite frankly, she hadn't been a priority when it came to informing John's associates. "I didn't contact her, no."

"Am I seeing her, Finch?" When he didn't get an immediate answer, he turned to look at his partner. He looked uncomfortable.

"I'm unsure of what your arrangement is, Mr. Reese."

"So, we have an arrangement?"

"Like I said, John, I'm unsure. You've spent some time together outside of work, however….."

"However what?" Reese prompted.

Finch sighed. This wasn't a topic he was enjoying the discussion of, but he knew it needed to be done. John had lost all recollection of all of them and the only way he'd know who he was now was if someone told him. "I can't be certain, but….I don't think it's anything...serious."

It explained a lot. Why Finch hadn't told her what happened to him and why he hadn't heard from her. Why Joss thought he was seeing her. Harold wouldn't say it but it sounded like he and Zoe scratched one another's itches from time to time. Like him and Kara.

Quiet draped the small room for many seconds while John contemplated asking his next question. "What about Joss?"

"What about her, John?" Finch held his breath, knowing where this line of questioning was going and futilely wanting to delay it.

"Are she and I…. close?"

Harold didn't know how to answer that one. Because it depended on what precisely John was asking. The detective had risked her life and livelihood for him; he'd always been especially protective of her. That constituted closeness, didn't it? But, then, John looked wholly besotted by her when he met her again yesterday evening. And there were times before John's accident where he wondered….

This was something he wanted to discuss even less than John's relationship with Ms. Morgan.

"You've been through some exceptional things together. I do believe that has given you a very unique relationship. What that means, Mr. Reese…" Finch trailed off.

John nodded to himself. That was probably all he was going to get out of Harold, and it reinforced his own ideas about how special Joss was. He was going to make sense of his relationship with her, of whatever pull he immediately felt toward her. He had to. It was too distracting. He hadn't felt that warmth, that draw from a woman in so long, not since Jessica. Only the attraction was different. More potent. Joss was different. Joss was potent. And it made no sense since he'd just met her. Sort of.

Trying to put his personal thoughts on the back burner, he sauntered back over to Finch's desk. "Have you gotten a number today, Finch?"

"There is a new number, Mr. Reese." Finch rose, grateful for the change in subject. He walked over to the printer, grabbing the photo and remembering how quickly John first took to the mission. He walked over to the board to post the picture. "I'll give you a quick rundown and text you the address." He turned to his friend and a small smile played across his face. "Best way to learn is to dive right in."

* * *

Carter and Fusco sat in their usual booth at their usual spot for lunch.

Fusco swallowed his fries. "I don't know if I wanna see him, Carter. It's gotta be weird."

Carter nodded. "It was." It absolutely was, but he didn't need to know exactly why. John had been vulnerable, feeling lost. That was why he was going to kiss her. That's what she had parked in her brain and left there that night before falling asleep. That's what would remain there.

"Wonderboy being Wonderboy but not knowing he's Wonderboy?" He shook his head. "Weird." He looked up at her. "Is he nice?"

Joss chuckled and shook her head at him.

"Wait. Why am I asking you? You're the only one he's always nice to. You wouldn't know the difference."

She rolled her eyes. "You should go see him."

"I think I'll wait for him to call me." Fusco looked up as someone approached their table. _Speak of the devil…_

Joss's heart started beating faster when she looked at Fusco's nervous face and turned her head to follow his line of sight. Seconds later, John was sliding in next to her in the booth, forcing her to slide over to give him room. And herself some space from him. He was in dark jeans, dark t-shirt, and a gray leather jacket she'd never seen before. She wondered if he'd missed the black suit, white shirt uniform memo and snickered to herself.

John looked across the table at Fusco and nodded in greeting. "Detective Fusco."

Fusco eyed him warily. It was weird already. "John. How's it goin'? Uh, how ya holding up?"He wondered what the hell he was supposed to say to someone with amnesia. Someone like John who couldn't remember he barely liked him. If at all.

Reese gave a slight shrug. "I'll live." He noted Lionel seemed a bit wary, maybe even a little nervous around him. Like he had some kind of power over the detective. Like Lionel was the beta to his alpha. There was probably an interesting story there and John made a mental note to ask about it. He also noted it was the total opposite with Joss, who had some kind of power over _him_ whether she knew it or not.

John looked over at her. "Have a good evening, Detective?"

Joss decided to make a valiant effort not to act bothered by him and prayed he wouldn't do or say anything suspect in front of Fusco. She nodded and turned to him. "Finch put you back to work already?"

"No rest for the weary." She was wearing some kind of plum-colored lipstick, smelled indelible, and he had to make himself turn away from her. He was here on official business and Lionel didn't need to see anything Joss may not want him to see. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper with a name on it. He slid it over to Fusco. "I wondered if you could get some information for us. His juvenile record was expunged and we need to see what it's hiding."

Fusco took it, looked at it, and nodded. "That all?"

"For now." He glanced between Joss and Fusco, deciding he wanted to get to know her partner a little better. "I know about Joss. Any kids, Lionel? Family?"

 _Still weird_ , Fusco thought. John was even saying his name without that condescending tone."A son. Divorced." He watched in shock as John actually smiled at him. Mr. Happy actually looking...happy.

"How old?"

"Twelve. Going on forty-five."

Reese let out a tiny snort. Same thing Joss had said about Taylor. "How long have you two been partners?" Looking at the pudgy detective, John wondered how close the two partners were, how capable Fusco was at protecting her. He didn't look former military. Probably only had cop training. And with the dangerous work she was involved in with him and Finch on top of her day job….

"Couple years now right, Carter?"

"Right."

Long enough to have formed some kind of bond, John thought. It had taken him about a year to get there with Kara.

They were both divorced, had one son. They had things in common. That was good. "Take a bullet for Joss, Lionel?"

There he was. There was the Wonderboy Fusco knew, with that stare that only bothered him a little bit now. Still, he got a little defensive. "She's my partner. And a damn good one. Of course I would."

John stared at him a bit longer, gauging his sincerity. After a while, he nodded. "Good. Keep it that way. "

Fusco shook his head and, after a few seconds, couldn't help but to smile to himself.

Carter felt embarrassed and irritated at John's behavior. "I have his back, too," she snapped.

John, however, was still focused on Fusco. "Something funny?"

"Nothin'. You just used to threaten me over Carter's safety before. This ain't my first time at the rodeo with you." What _was_ it with Wonderboy and Carter's safety? He would flip out if she even got a hangnail, and it was already starting all over again. Well, truth be told, he knew what it was. He bet Wonderboy knew what it was, too.

Carter couldn't believe what she was hearing. What the hell was he doing threatening Fusco and why was she just now hearing about it? She wanted to tell him off, but she had to remind herself he was new to all this, new to her, was struggling to find himself again, and didn't need to be fighting with one of the few people he had in his life. She pulled her jaw back up and managed to hold her tongue. After all, he had done it because he cared, and he was doing it now because he cared. She quickly brushed aside the warm feeling that gathered within her and tried to hang on to her irritation.

While Joss bristled beside him, John was comforted knowing he had always made sure Joss was protected when he wasn't around. He also had to admit to himself that he liked Lionel Fusco. The man had a fire in his belly and seemed loyal. "How soon can you get me the file?"

"Might take some time," Fusco replied.

"We don't have much."

"You never do." Joss didn't look up from her plate when she answered. When she felt John's eyes on her, she glanced at him and added, "You need it yesterday. We know the drill." She refrained from adding the reminder that she and Fusco had day jobs because someone needed help, and not just because she knew she was being petty. When John did nothing but smirk back at her, she went back to focusing on finishing her lunch.

"I'll be in touch." Reese rose from the table and left, smiling to himself. Joss had spunk. He was going to enjoy getting a rise out of her in the future.

* * *

"I know." Carter sat up straight on the couch where she was blissfully lounging on a Saturday afternoon when there was a knock on her back door. "Hang on a second, Mom." Who the hell would be knocking on the back door instead of the front? One of the neighbors? She set her laptop on the desk and walked through the kitchen toward the door. She pulled the curtain to the side so she could see who it was and her damn heart started beating faster again. It was on her last nerve. Truly. She didn't like John like that. She didn't want him. Why weren't her physiological responses getting that message? "Someone's at the door, Ma, I'll call you back."

Hanging up and setting the phone on the counter, Carter closed her eyes and turned her face heavenward. Maybe she could act like she wasn't ho—too late. Damn, what did he want? He only ever came by if he needed something urgent or he was obviously bored and wouldn't admit it. She took a deep breath and sighed again. This new version of John could be here for anything and she wasn't ready. But maybe he had more questions. Maybe he was feeling stressed out and upset. How was she going to turn him away if that was the case?

She mentally braced herself and opened the door, trying not to let that smirk he had going—or was it a smile this time—get to her. "This is different."

John looked a question at her.

"You usually wait until I'm not home and let yourself in." He was definitely smiling now and her stomach fluttered. He stepped closer to the threshold, closer to her, and she wanted him gone. He was doing something to her and he knew it because she couldn't hide it, and it made her even more nervous.

"Want me to leave and come back?"

She squinted and shook her head at him. "I know you don't remember how you were, but you're still managing to get on my nerves like usual."

John chuckled softly to himself as he watched her turn and walk away from him. So, he _had_ made it a point to get on her nerves in the past. It thrilled him now so he could see why. He stepped into the house and closed and locked the door behind himself. Following her through the kitchen and into her living room, he took in the blue sweatpants and gray tee shirt she wore. He felt relaxed knowing she had been lounging and he wasn't interrupting much.

Carter plopped down onto her couch and watched as he slowly walked around her living room, taking it all in. He stopped at her desk and the heat rose in her cheeks. Her laptop was open and, during her conversation with her mom, she had been busy researching retrograde amnesia so that she'd know better how to help him. She looked at her fingernails while he quietly stood there, staring at the screen, for what felt like forever. Finally, he moved on, stopping at the mantle.

He picked up the picture of her with Taylor. He looked at her. "Taylor?"

"Yeah. Took that a couple years ago."

He nodded and set the frame down. He glanced toward the stairs. "Is he here?"

"No, at his friend's house."

"Have I met him?"

She nodded. "Yeah." She shuddered a breath in remembrance. "This mob boss, Elias, kidnapped him to get me to release his cohorts from protective custody."

Elias. Same guy who had tried to kill her. John wondered why the man was still breathing. "What happened?"

"You promised me you'd bring him back to me, and you did."

He saw the look on her face, the flicker of terror as she remembered, followed by the look of sheer gratitude, and he finally understood one of those "exceptional things" the two of them had gone through.

"I still don't think I can ever thank you enough." Feeling herself getting choked up, she cleared her throat and looked down at her lap for a moment. "Anyway, he doesn't know what you do, just that we work together sometimes. Or at least I don't think he knows. Kids know more than you think they do sometimes."

"I bet he's a good kid." Reese smiled when Joss smiled.

"I got lucky."

"He probably feels the same way."

She smiled and looked down at her lap again.

John casually put both hands in his pants pockets and looked around at the room's decor. "What made you decide to be a cop?"

Carter shrugged. "We needed more good ones."

Reese nodded in agreement.

"I actually took a detour and got a law degree. Only practiced for a year, though. Thought it would be...safer." She got lost in thought for a moment before shrugging once more. She smiled and met his eyes again. "But I missed the action."

John grinned at her in pure awe. She'd gone through law school and passed the bar on top of all her other accomplishments? She was entirely out of his league but he still wanted her, wanted the many ways she would probably make him a better man. "What haven't you done, Joss?"

She blushed and chuckled a bit to cloak it. "A lot of things, trust me." Tiring of talking about herself, she cocked her head and appraised him, wondering why he was here. "I promise I won't keep asking, but….have you remembered anything at all yet?"

Reese sighed softly, turning to unconsciously fiddle with the other picture of Joss and Taylor. "I remember what I've been told. Facts." He went silent as he thought about what Finch had told him about Jessica. The state in which Finch and Joss had found him. How her death had affected him. It hurt now knowing. That she was gone. But he didn't really _feel_ it. He didn't feel whatever had led him to being destitute and probably full of despair. And he felt bad for not feeling it. Jessica had been important to him, but he hadn't been able to commit to her and had let her go. And here he was. A killer but not anymore. Supposed to be in deep mourning but feeling fine. Inexplicably wanting a woman he just met but not really.

He turned to look at her as she rose from the couch and approached him, that concern and caring in her soft eyes again. His connection to this world he was trying to understand. "What if I don't get it back?"

It was strange seeing him like this. She didn't like seeing him like this. Unsure. A little lost. She couldn't help herself and reached out to touch his forearm. John was equipped to handle so much, but who could be prepared to handle something like this? She felt frustrated that she couldn't help him after everything he'd done for her. That she and Finch just telling him things, trying to get him to remember, was probably making things worse for him. She could only imagine how trying it was knowing what he was supposed to be feeling about things, but being unable to feel them.

She wasn't sure what to tell him. She couldn't tell him to keep the faith, that he'd eventually get his memories back. Because it was entirely possible that he wouldn't. There would probably be only one thing to do. "You make a new starting point and go forward. We'll be here. We'll help you. You're not alone."

John stared into her eyes and the feeling of déjà vu washed over her again, followed by the warning bells. She needed to put some distance between them. Offer him something to drink. A distraction. Something.

What _was_ it about her? Joss Carter? Why did she care about him so much? Why did he need it now so badly? No one cared about him. He lived in the shadows. He cut the last person who cared about him out of his life because he was a soldier, a fighter. Always would be.

And so was Joss.

She worked with him. Side by side. She was tough, intelligent, sought out the battle. Needed it like he did if her giving up law was any indication. She was his equal and she accepted him. Cared about him. Believed in him.

His eyes swept over her face and the urge to be closer to her swelled within him. Her hand was still on his forearm and he turned his palm up, cupping her forearm and pulling her toward him as his eyes settled on her lips.

Carter quickly released his arm and his hold loosened. "I didn't offer you anything to drink. Want some water or something?" Her voice wavered slightly and she had to force herself not to draw attention to it by cringing. She was grateful for his nod even though she knew he was only agreeing for her benefit. She turned and headed toward the kitchen, angry and frustrated and embarrassed. Why was he doing this to her? Why now? Why was she responding to it in that way? She wanted _her_ John back. The one who kept his distance. The one who looked at her in ways that made her mildly curious but didn't touch. The one she could sit down and talk with without any of these damn complications.

She made it into the kitchen and only got so far as grabbing a tumbler from the cupboard before it was taken out of her hand and placed on the counter. She lost it when she felt his strong hands on her hips, turning her around to face him. She lamented one last time about her John and let this new John tentatively brush his nose alongside hers before he slid his lips over hers.

Soft, determined brush strokes. Like he'd invented the art of kissing.

Needing to steady herself, she clutched his forearms as she unconsciously rose to the tips of her toes and turned her head to pull at his bottom lip.

Soft and gentle they were. His lips. She felt drunk as she sipped, as his hands moved back and forth along her waist, coaxing her to open up to him. It worked and she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to meet hers for only a moment. He pulled back, appreciative and unappreciative of the tease. Grasping both sides of her face, he went in again with purpose and she received the message when he parted her lips and wrapped his tongue around hers: no more teasing.

It turned hot, hasty, like he was trying to kiss her from every possible angle, reach every possible corner of her mouth before it inevitably ended. She found herself wanting the same. She did the same.

John. This new John. Like her old John, and she could no longer lie to herself that she didn't want every inch of him.

Reese hadn't intended to go where his body now wanted him to. Joss was softer than he'd imagined. Her lips, her waist, her hips. Everything in his life was hard—he was hard—but this softness, her softness, was new and invigorating and he wanted to wrap himself in it.

Joss Carter. Soldier, mother, detective, lawyer….lover.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck, when she mewled and moaned and mewled again, his body informed him that he had a choice to make: countertop or couch. Several seconds later, he hovered over her on her deep, plush couch, kissing her neck while his hands carried out the rest of his mission. Slipping them under her shirt, he kneaded her breasts through her bra, deciding he wanted to see them immediately. He pushed her shirt up and she lifted her torso, raising her arms so he could take it off. Bra unfastened and off, he pushed her back down until she was prone again, mouth covering one nipple while his right hand drifted beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and panties and in between her thighs.

" _Oh god._ " Had she said that out loud? In the tiny recess of her mind that wasn't being driven by lust, she wrestled with the thought that this was wrong. She felt like she had back when she was a teenager, knowing she was doing something wrong, but her actions were snowballing and the longer they went on, the less capable she was of stopping. She'd gotten in too deep, the damage was already done. The only thing left was to pray she didn't get caught so she didn't have to suffer any consequences.

A loud crashing noise sounded above them and the two soldiers immediately pulled apart, alert and listening. Joss watched as John's eyes lifted toward the stairs.

"Sounded like it came from upstairs." He was out of her pants, off of her, off the couch in seconds. "Stay here."

She didn't; instead she found her t-shirt and slipped it on as she followed him in soaked panties up the stairs. It didn't take him long to find the source—a sconce that had fallen from the wall and shattered on her bathroom floor—and she stood beside him just inside the en suite bathroom door. "How the hell did that fall?" She started to step closer to see the extent of the mess when he looked at her stocking feet, placed his hands on her waist and halted her movement, gently pushing her back.

"Stand back. I'll get it."

He immediately squatted and started picking up the larger pieces of glass while she left for the broom and dustpan she kept in the hallway closet. Always protective he was. She wanted to be irritated, but it felt good having someone so competent and caring have her back. This was a mess, though. She had no business trying to sleep with John, let alone this John. One who didn't know her, didn't even know himself anymore. It felt wrong, like she was sober and taking advantage of someone who wasn't. He technically had brain damage, didn't he?

When she returned with the broom and dustpan, she handed them to him and stepped back as he went to work.

"Did you just hang it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's been up there since we moved in."

"Think you'll be able to replace it?"

"Doubt it. But I can always just replace the glass with something different."

He didn't say anything further until he finished shaking out and removing the bathroom rugs before sweeping up the last of the shards. He turned off the bathroom light and walked toward her. He indicated the rugs he'd placed just outside the bathroom door on the floor before he faced her. "Better put those in the wash to be safe."

She nodded. "I will." She smiled. "Thanks." She stood there awkwardly, wondering what the hell they were going to do now. What the hell she should say. But it looked like he knew exactly what he wanted and she shifted uncomfortably under his thick gaze.

He stepped to her, wrapping his hands around her waist and pressing his body against hers. "Where were we?"

His low, rumbling voice made her shudder before she found herself kissing him again, answering the plea that was on both his lips and the tip of his tongue in her mouth.

It was a shame really, she somehow managed to think. The sex would have been out of this world if the prelude was any indication. But the snowball had melted and what remained was what she'd started with before he touched her and made her lose her mind.

Damn, her body was ready for this, though. How long had it been? And he was so gentle and rough, dominating and yielding, all the things she'd noticed in the John she knew. The combination was exciting and titillating and she wanted the entire experience. But he wasn't him anymore, so she pushed at his chest before they went tumbling onto her bed. "John…." She waited until he opened his eyes and put a few inches between his mouth and hers. She was still encircled in his arms. "This is not what we do. We don't do this."

He knew as much. But he had yet to figure out why. "Why?"

"We were just friends. Before this happened to you, we were just friends." It sounded weak and clichéd to her own ears and she knew he wouldn't accept it.

"Why?"

She grew frustrated and pulled away from him. What could she tell him? That she was never attracted to him and he was never attracted to her? Should she even bother lying through her teeth? "Because it's too complicated."

John's expression softened. At least she hadn't given him the Zoe Morgan excuse again. But she probably wasn't wrong, considering which sides of the law they officially fell on. "It's just a job, Joss. I could always find something a little more legal to do."

"What? No." She looked at him incredulously, needing to remind herself once again that he wasn't himself. The work with Finch was just that to him right now: work. Something in him needed to do what he did saving people, but he hadn't felt that pain to connect him to that part yet. "John, I know you don't really know it yet, but you need to do what you're doing. Just….don't do anything serious like that without thinking about it. Not yet."

Aggravation began to brew in the form of a headache. Everyone telling him what he did, what he wore, what he liked to eat, what he "didn't know yet, but." It had only been a week and he was tired of it. Tired of feeling like he was in a holding pattern. Unable to do whatever the hell he wanted because the John they knew "wouldn't do that" or wouldn't do it "that way." Waiting around, feeling like he had little control over his life as it stood right now was testing the limits of his patience and he felt rebellion coursing through his veins.

He stepped toward her and she was startled by the fierce look in his eyes. "I might not get it back. Not a lot makes sense, Joss. But you're the only thing that…." It got stuck in his throat. He hadn't done this in awhile. Talk about his feelings. People like him in the CIA didn't have relationships like this.

"I'm back, Ma!"

Taylor's voice sounded and Carter watched as John looked in the direction of the sound. She didn't know if her son's timing was bad or good. She needed to squash this crazy notion that she and John could be together immediately, but she wondered if whatever he was going to say would have pushed her in the opposite direction.

She looked down at her bra-less chest and hurried to her dresser to grab another shirt to layer on before she headed out of the room and down the stairs, sensing John on her heels. Taylor had set his keys on the table in the foyer and was starting toward the kitchen when he stopped to face her. "You're early." She had already decided not to explain why she was upstairs with John.

"Yeah, I have a headache." Taylor looked over at John, only slightly surprised to see him. "Hey, John."

While Carter did what moms do and first placed the back of her hand against her son's forehead before placing her palm against his cheek and neck, Reese nodded once and greeted the teenager. "Taylor." He observed him, noting that he was taller than his mother and his hair was cut shorter than it was in the more recent picture of him on the mantle. He wondered what kind of relationship he had with the boy. He'd found him when he was kidnapped, and Joss said her son didn't know what he did for a living, but did he see him often? Surely, he checked in on Taylor to make sure he was safe.

Did he ask him about his homework when he saw him? Girls? Had Joss told him about the amnesia? He was spared the task of coming up with something to say to Taylor when his mother led him into the kitchen.

"Did you take something?" she asked.

"Not yet."

John stayed behind for a few seconds, feeling out of place. Thinking he should probably go, he stepped just beyond the kitchen threshold. "I better get going." He looked pointedly at Carter. "I'll be in touch, Joss." He nodded again at Taylor. "Taylor." Then, he made his way past them and back out the back door.

* * *

Reese sighed as he made his way into the library early the following Wednesday morning. It was gloomy, raining, the air was sticky, the smell of exhaust was thick, and he again wondered what made him put down homeless roots in New York City. He could really do with a simple life in a simple town somewhere. Maybe a cabin in Montana. It was never too late, he thought before he reined it in and got his mind right for the work he needed to do.

As he stepped into the room, he noticed the lack of Finch and looked at his watch. He shrugged his shoulder. He was a little early.

He went to sit down at the desk when his phone buzzed with an alert. Taking it out of his pocket, his outlook on the day changed when the reminder flashed on the screen: _8:00am Carter's birthday._ He frowned. She hadn't mentioned her birthday was approaching when he'd seen her last week. Then again, she didn't seem like the type to advertise it, especially since she was concerned about his problems.

The dilemma hit him almost immediately. He or Finch had put the reminder on his phone, so what did he usually do for her birthday? Buy her a card? Seemed generic and lacking. A gift card? Spa package maybe? A little better than a card he supposed. Women liked getting pampered, didn't they? Or did he usually go with something more significant? Like earrings or a necklace. Would that have been too personal? Did he simply buy her breakfast or take her to dinner, or was there only a "Happy Birthday" phone call before the day was over?

He felt frustration bloom and spread within him once again. He still couldn't figure out what kind of relationship they had before his head injury. "Friends" was all he would ever get out of her now, but he knew there was more to it or everything that happened in her house wouldn't have. Had he been testing the waters and she just wouldn't say?

 _Friends_. John scoffed.

Okay, so what kind of gift would he give to a _friend_ on her birthday? Should he even bother trying to come up with something he would have done before? Maybe he should focus on the present. Just do what he wanted to do now. And what he wanted to do now was take her someplace nice for dinner so he could spend more time with her and just….talk.

He heard Finch and Bear approaching, interrupting his musings. He still didn't know exactly why, if Bear was his dog, he spent most of his time with Finch. Something else he wanted to eventually ask about. When they entered the room, Reese greeted him. "Morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Reese." Finch reached down to unhook the dog's leash.

Reese rose from the desk and went to occupy the other chair in the room as Bear made his way over to him to get his morning affection. "Any number yet?"

"Yes. Just give me a moment." Finch sat down at his desk, moving the mouse to turn on the screens. "It's Detective Carter's birthday today. I want to have some breakfast delivered to her desk." He looked up at Reese. "And we'll try not to disturb her with any extra work."

John nodded approvingly. "Fine." He smirked. "I'll take care of dinner."

* * *

Carter's birthday hadn't started off well. It was raining and she did _not_ want to trudge through it to get to work. It had been dry for over two weeks straight and then had the nerve to rain on her birthday. She was grumpy when she first arrived, but the day immediately improved with the birthday greetings she received, when her favorite coffee landed on her desk by way of her partner, and Finch's diabetes-laden breakfast had arrived. She sent him a text thanking him and worried about what John was going to do. Because she knew he was going to do something.

She hadn't spoken to him since he left her apartment and she wondered if he was upset with her. And she got mad for caring that he might be upset with her. But what was she supposed to have done? Give in? If she had, they'd have been caught by her son coming home early. She shuddered and thanked God once again that that didn't happen. Besides, she just….couldn't imagine being in a relationship with John Reese. What would it look like? He drove her insane but they'd probably be having sex five times a day. Something about him made her want to punch him in the throat for the crazy things he did while wanting him in the worst way for the same reason. It would be draining. She was too old for that. She should have done the bad boy thing in her twenties. The whole thing would be foolish and not just because he wasn't himself.

She made it to the two-hour mark when her phone buzzed and she was finally put out of her misery. Or into it further. "Carter."

"Happy birthday."

His voice in her ear immediately conjured up memories of his lips against hers and his hand between her thighs. She shifted in her chair. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your breakfast?"

"Yeah, even though I'm gonna pay for it later."

"Nothing wrong with treating yourself, Joss."

She tried to ignore the double meaning and shifted again. "Sometimes." There was a long pause before he spoke again.

"Plans for this evening?"

 _Shit._ She really didn't have any and raced to come up with a plausible lie. Birthdays at her age weren't events anymore. Taylor and her mom usually got her a card and a small gift, sometimes something she'd asked for, sometimes something she didn't really want or need. And her two girlfriends usually took her out to dinner on the weekend if her birthday fell during the week. Beyond that, she was simply happy to see another year with both her boy and her health. But since she was dealing with the likes of surveillance happy John and Harold, she stopped trying to come up with an excuse and resigned herself to whatever he wanted to do. "No, just hoping I don't catch a case and have to work all night."

"I wanted to take you to dinner. There's a nice seafood place in Manhattan. _Le Bernardin_. What do you think?"

She'd heard of it. So not only did she have to have dinner with him, she was going to have to find something formal to wear. "You sure you don't wanna do Applebee's or something?"

He chuckled. "I'll pick you up at six."

He hung up before she could protest, and she suddenly wished she _would_ catch a case. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Dinner with John. She prayed she'd have the strength not to do anything stupid tonight.

* * *

 _So far, so good_ , Joss thought as she sat across from John at the restaurant. The weather had cleared up by lunch, she'd had a relatively easy work day, and had found a black cocktail dress in her closet to wear when she got home. She also had not dragged John to her bedroom to finish what they'd started after he'd shown up with a policeman teddy bear holding two foil balloons, an edible arrangement, a chocolate sheet cake, a gift certificate to a luxury spa, and a bouquet of flowers. Instead, she'd stood there a little speechless, reminding herself that she was dealing with New John. Old John had simply had a small cake delivered to her home last year and stopped by to have a drink with her when he finished with his work that day. And the year before that, she was too busy chasing him for him to bother.

She'd continued to not make a fool of herself as they arrived at the restaurant and he spent the time asking her more about herself while she marveled at how handsome he looked under this lighting. As they ate, she turned the conversation toward him, avoiding any topic from the time period he couldn't remember.

"What have I told you?" he asked in between bites of merluza, their main course.

"Not a whole lot."

John nodded, wondering why he'd told her so little. He'd felt like he could trust her with anything from the second he'd met her—the second time—but she knew a different man. One who had been broken when he met her, and who probably wanted to tell her but couldn't.

"What kind of a student were you? One of the popular kids that got straight As _and_ played sports?"

Reese smiled and shook his head. "That sounds like you."

She snorted. "No."

"Straight As though, right?"

She looked coy. "Maybe."

"Track and field?"

She looked at him, surprised he'd guessed correctly. "Not real a sport, though."

"It is a real sport." He took a sip of his wine.

"Anyway, we were talking about you."

"B student. Pretty much played everything but football. Kind of quiet, a little shy." He watched her smile broadly, falling into its depths.

"You know what? I'm not surprised. I can see you as the introverted type. Shy, too, when you were little." Strong, silent type. That was John.

One side of his mouth quirked up and he leaned toward her. "You don't think I'm shy anymore?" She gave him that look. The look that said he was an irritating son of a bitch and he lapped it up.

Joss shook her head. He just loved to mess with her. Funny how that hadn't changed. She honed in on his eyes as he leaned closer. They were lighter than she was used to, more open. Definitely more open. He looked at her with barely concealed adoration and desire. Old John had cloaked it in sarcasm and smirks so she would oftentimes doubt what she was seeing. This John, well, he didn't care, and she reminded herself not to do anything stupid as she leaned toward him. "What color are your eyes?"

He answered softly, boring them into hers so she'd see their color and everything else in them. "What color do you see?"

"John." Zoe Morgan first glanced at him before looking at Carter. "Detective." She turned back to John while Joss immediately sat back and he turned his head in Zoe's direction to see who was addressing them.

Joss could be honest. This wasn't what she needed or wanted right now _._ She looked at the smiling woman with the questioning look on her face and wished like she'd never wished before that she had gotten a homicide to investigate on her birthday.

She watched as Zoe looked back and forth between them, obviously waiting on one of them to respond to her greeting. Joss turned to look at John. He looked like he was trying to place the newcomer, like he'd never seen Zoe before, and Carter quickly realized Finch hadn't reintroduced them yet. Which meant Zoe didn't know about the amnesia. Which meant this was going to be even more awkward than she thought.

When John turned to look at her expectantly, waiting for an introduction, Joss launched into one. "Uh, John, this is Zoe Morgan." She stared back at him, seeing the light bulb go off in his mind while feeling Zoe's ever more questioning eyes on her.

Reese turned back to Zoe and plastered a smile on his face. Should he stand up and shake her hand? It didn't seem to jibe with greeting someone he was probably sleeping with. He stood up but kept his hand to himself. "Zoe." He nodded once toward her, unable to miss how strangely she was regarding him. "Sorry. I uh…. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I hit my head a couple weeks ago. There's a lot I don't remember."

He watched as Zoe's strange look turned into one of complete disbelief. She looked back at Joss still seated at the table before turning back to him. "Are you serious?" She looked at Joss again. "Is this a joke?"

Joss shook her head. "No, he's serious."

Zoe looked back at him, and it was obvious she was still not fully convinced. He couldn't blame her. While she was trying to wrap her mind around what she was being told, he studied her. She was an attractive woman, well-dressed, exuded confidence. If they had something going on, he could see why.

Zoe's smoky voice held a lilt. "You really don't remember me, John? At all?"

He shook his head, noting the slight disappointment in her eyes. It was the same look he'd gotten from Joss. And Finch. Even the dog.

Zoe turned back to Joss as she sat trying to remain excluded from their conversation. "Does he remember Harold? You?"

Reese answered, drawing her attention back to him. "I didn't, no."

Zoe sighed softly. "Wow. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, John. I didn't know. Nobody told me." She reached out to touch his forearm and empathy replaced incredulity on her face. "What did the doctors say?"

Reese shrugged his left shoulder. "Waiting game."

"Do they think you'll get it back?"

"Most people do, but they don't want to say for certain."

Zoe smiled encouragingly at him. "I'm sure you'll get it back. If anybody can, it's you." She glanced at Carter briefly before looking back at Reese. "Are you back to work already?"

"Crime never sleeps."

While John answered the question on the surface, Carter read between the lines. She and John were dressed up, alone in a nice restaurant, and Zoe was curious whether it was what it looked like or not. Though she wasn't certain what kind of relationship Zoe and John had, she was pretty sure they were sleeping together. And she was damn sure that she missed the days when she didn't care. Regardless, Zoe had been blindsided by John's condition and probably wanted to know where she stood, and Joss couldn't blame her.

She was trying, but Joss was finding it impossible not to feel uncomfortable. Despite the fact that she and Zoe weren't friends—she had no real opinion of the woman since they'd only conversed a couple of times—if that sconce hadn't fallen…..she knew it was ludicrous, but she was feeling like the other woman and was more than ready for Zoe to move along.

Reese continued. "But I'm off the clock tonight." He smiled toward his dinner companion. "Joss's birthday."

Zoe raised her eyebrows slightly and nodded before looking down at the detective.

Carter cringed inside. Why did he have to say something? Yeah, technically he was one friend taking the other out for her birthday. But she and John both knew it was more than that and they were probably telegraphing it to the whole restaurant.

"Happy birthday, Joss."

Carter forced a smile. "Thanks." She blew out a breath, both to tame her wayward thoughts and to signal the change in subject that would hopefully send Zoe on her way. "So, why are you here? Business or pleasure?"

"Business." Zoe turned back to John. "Speaking of which, I better head back. Time is money." She reached out to touch his arm again. "I hope everything works out soon, John. If you need anything, just call me."

John could see she was sincere and stopped her as she turned to leave. "Zoe?"

She turned back to him.

"Sorry." _Sorry I don't remember you. Sorry that, when I do, whatever we have going will be over._

Zoe smiled, and he hoped she'd caught his meaning. Then she told Joss to enjoy the rest of her birthday before she walked off and left them alone.

Sitting back down, John watched as Joss took a sip of her wine, her eyes not meeting his. He had gleaned two things from that encounter: Zoe and Joss didn't work together often and were not close, and though he could see why he was possibly sleeping with Zoe before, he didn't feel any desire for her now. The latter made him frustrated, yet again, that he couldn't remember so much of his current life. He was glad for the former, though, knowing Joss would never consider him otherwise.

Joss felt his eyes on her and decided to meet them. He was doing that smirk-smile thing and it immediately put her at ease. She shook her head and smiled. "You and your women, John."

He shook his head slightly and spoke softly as the smile left his face. "Just one woman."

 _Jesus_. He could at least give her a break on her birthday. "I think they're green. But sometimes they look gray." She took it back to before they were interrupted and hoped he'd follow. He did, after staring at her awhile longer. She almost winced at the disappointment in those multi-colored eyes.

John sat back in his chair. She was incredibly stubborn and it only drove him to want to know what she was thinking about him even more. "They're green-gray when I look in the mirror. But sometimes I get hazel or blue."

"Well, what do you put on your license?" She caught herself and rolled her eyes. "Your fake licenses?"

He tilted his head, his expression thoughtful because he really had no idea what Finch had put on them. He leaned forward and reached into his back pocket. "I don't know what they say actually." He pulled out his wallet and found the license he was carrying. He looked at it, shrugged, and handed it to her.

Joss looked at it. "Hmph." He was John Warren tonight and Finch had given him blue eyes. She handed it back to him. "Blue eyes it is, then."

He put it back into his pocket. "He got the sex and height right, anyway."

She chuckled and sat back as the waiters approached to take away their dinner plates and serve their dessert course. Reese was served the _Tres Leches_ while Carter was served the mango parfait…..and a huge piece of Peruvian chocolate cake with a single lit candle. "John, did you….?" She looked at him in surprise, wondering when he had told them it was her birthday, and he did nothing but grin.

One of the waiters looked at her and smiled, wishing her a happy birthday. She thanked him and looked at all the dessert laid out before her once they left. "I'm not going to be able to eat all of this, even though I want to." She pushed the cake plate toward the middle of the table. "You're going to have to help me eat this."

He pushed it back toward her. "Make a wish first."

"Oh. Yeah." She smiled at him bashfully, feeling overwhelmed. She closed her eyes, wished he'd get his memory back soon, and blew the candle out.

Moments later, she moaned in appreciation of the parfait and threw her head back in even greater appreciation of the cake.

Reese could do nothing but shake his head at her and smile.

"Do you want to try some of this?" She pointed her spoon toward her parfait.

He looked at her skeptically. "You sure you're willing to part with some of it?"

She smirked at him. "Here." She pushed her plate toward him and he took a spoonful, closing his eyes briefly as the taste excited his taste buds. "Good, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Very good."

"Want some more?"

He shook his head, patting his stomach and wincing. "Better not." He looked at her. "Want to try mine?" He watched her eyes light up as she looked at the caramelized cashew sponge cake and sorbet and licked her lips. She gave him an enthusiastic yes and he spooned some cake, mousse, and sorbet onto his spoon.

Carter swallowed when she realized he wasn't offering to put it on her plate. He held the spoon in his left hand while his right hovered beneath it and reached across the table. She leaned forward and met the spoon, not intending to hold his intense gaze but doing it anyway as she drew her lips down his spoon until all of the dessert was in her mouth. He watched her mouth and she chewed, asking God yet again not to let her do anything stupid.

"Good?" He asked, lifting his eyes from her lips to her eyes.

All she could do was nod and want him more than ever before.

"More?"

 _Yes._ "No, I'm good, thanks." She nodded toward the cake. "Just please help me with this cake."

* * *

Reese pulled in front of Joss's home, unhappy that his time with her was coming to an end. He had wanted them to catch a show or take a walk or something, but it was a weeknight and she was a busy mom who needed to get up early for work in the morning. The lights were on in her house, signifying Taylor was inside, so if he was going to do it, he needed to do it now.

She looked over at him from the passenger seat, the box of leftover cake they hadn't been able to finish on her lap. She was in such good spirits because of him. She wanted to squeeze him, kiss him on the cheek to thank him for everything he'd done for her birthday. But his cheek was too close to his lips. She opened her mouth to thank him with words instead but he beat her to the punch.

He looked at the steering wheel and his voice was barely a whisper. "Is it just the amnesia, Joss?"

Joss's good mood plummeted. When she wanted to open the door and escape, she told herself to stay put. This was a conversation they needed to have. She looked down, nervously running her finger along the corner of the dessert box. "No."

Reese's heart sank and he felt the walls around it being erected.

Carter's voice was soft, unsteady. "I can't live a lie with you, John. That's what it'll be. Secrets. I have Taylor to worry about."

"I told you I can do something else. I don't—"

"No."

"There's more than one way to help people."

"I know, but…." She sighed. Hadn't she already told him not to make any decisions like this right now, when he didn't have all of his emotional information? This was scaring her to death, that he was willing to change his life to be with her. A woman he'd just met.

Wanting to tread safer waters, she retreated to the most obvious roadblock. "Besides, we're not on a level playing field. You don't remember how you really felt about me. About everything we've been through. Maybe a part of you stopped trusting me after I got you shot. You just don't know. And that's not all. It's you. You're different. You're….lighter….you smile more. You're not brooding like you do. You're not who I knew. We don't really know each other."

John listened to everything she said, taking several moments to compose his next words. "If I get everything back or I don't, I'm still going to want you. I'm going to remember everything that's happened since the accident. That's not going to suddenly disappear."

When she let that confession hang between them, when she said nothing, Reese solemnly laid out the facts as he knew them, forcing himself to accept the fact that this was beyond his control. Nothing he could do or say would change her mind. "You don't want me to quit. But you won't consider this if I'm still doing it. And my memory may never come back." He paused and released a soft sigh. "That's it then."

He didn't frame it as a question and her chest tightened at the finality in his tone. Her mind was awhirl. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to lose him. She couldn't turn her feelings for him off, so what would their future look like? Would regret haunt her until the day she died?

Her pull toward him had always been there, just in different iterations as their relationship changed over the months, years. It was aggravating and exciting and she'd never experienced anything like it before. On the surface, it had followed a normal trajectory: adversaries, associates, friends. That transition from associates to friends—close friends—however….that had been swift and profound and had come with feelings she hadn't wanted nor asked for.

She wondered if her attachment to him stemmed from trauma. He'd saved her after she'd been shot by taking out her CI literally seconds before he took the kill shot. He'd promised her he'd get her son back—the person she loved more than anyone else on this earth—and he did. How could anyone not form some type of attachment to someone who had done all that? That was all it was, right? _Right?_

While she roiled with turmoil beside him, John opened his door and got out and she panicked. He had taken her silence as confirmation. She didn't want that. She wanted to explain. She wanted him to understand. She wanted herself to understand. She felt shell shocked when he opened her door and helped her get out. He kept his hand on her lower back as he guided her toward her front door, like he wanted to touch her for as long as he could before he had to stop forever. When they stood just outside her door, she found her damn voice finally after he told her happy birthday again and kissed her forehead. "I don't know what to do."

John could see that clearly in her glistening eyes. And he understood. But the situation was impossible and he was angry with himself for getting so attached to her so soon. He let a sad smile express itself before he cupped her cheek. Then he leaned down and kissed her, taking as long as he could to break it. "Goodnight, Joss."

He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door for her. He put the keys back in her hand and opened the door.

Carter forced herself to step through the door and watched as he descended the steps and walked back to his car. She felt overheated from his kiss. But she wanted to cry.

Because that kiss felt like goodbye.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Reese walked back into the library late one evening a week later. They had received multiple numbers and, even though he was tired from the one they'd just wrapped up, he put his game face on. He had a job to do.

"John, have a seat."

Reese noted Finch's clipped, distracted tone as the computer wizard tapped at his keyboard, and did as directed.

Finch turned in his chair and faced him after about a minute. "This is an interesting case in that we already know what the threat is. And, unfortunately, one of the numbers is Detective Carter."

Reese's heart involuntarily constricted in his chest.

"I've already spoken with her." Finch continued quickly. He rose from his chair and walked over to tape two sheets of paper to the dry erase board.

Reese got up and stood tensely next to him. The first one was a list of names. Joss's along with three others. He didn't give a fuck about the others and looked at Finch, waiting impatiently for him to continue.

"They are all police officers." Finch taped up the second sheet. "And this is the man the police are trying to find." Harold turned to John. "Dale Maler. He's also a police officer."

"That HR situation you told me about?"

"No, not in this instance. He's wanted for murdering his girlfriend. And as of yesterday, for murdering Doug Nader."

Reese looked back at the list of names. Nader was the first one. "Hit list?"

Finch nodded. "It appears he's a very disgruntled employee. The police found this list in his home."

Reese nodded and started toward the door. Joss's name was the next one on the list.

"Wait, John." Finch took a few steps toward his partner's retreating back. He took a breath when John stopped and turned back to him. "Like I said, I've spoken with Detective Carter. As the police are aware of this situation, she's under twenty-four hour police protection. She and the others might be better served if we focus on finding Mr. Maler."

"Do you have any leads?"

"I'm working on it."

"You know where I'll be then."

* * *

Joss walked up the steps to her home, flanked by an officer. Taylor had been safely deposited at her mother's until this shit was over. She still couldn't believe this. She hadn't even known who Dale Maler was until she'd seen his photo. She'd exchanged, what, a few words with him? And it had been months ago. But apparently it had been enough. He'd targeted her probably because she'd rejected his overtures. She sighed. It wasn't like it hadn't been known to happen with unstable men.

She smiled and thanked Officer Tyler King before closing her door, more than ready to take off her Kevlar vest. The two officers who would be staying outside her home had been joined by two others earlier to sweep her house before she entered.

She took off her suit jacket, vest, and holster instantly feeling more relaxed as she headed toward the kitchen. It was only 8 o'clock, but she was rightfully tired. In the mood for something salty, she grabbed a handful of Triscuits and a glass of water to wash them down with. Grabbing her cell phone, she trudged up the steps and entered her bedroom. Finch had called her earlier, at about the same time she was being informed about what was going on by her lieutenant. She was grateful to have him and John on the case. Maler would probably be apprehended in no time and she could get back to her regularly scheduled life. She quickly turned her thoughts away from John and back toward her impending shower, getting what she needed and closing the bathroom door behind herself.

She wasn't surprised to see him when she stepped out of the bathroom but she _was_ startled. She blamed it on having a crazy motherfucker after her. John was sitting in one of her bedroom chairs, looking at something on his phone. She dumped her dirty clothes in the hamper, her heart still hammering in her chest even though the startled feeling had passed. She felt a bit self-conscious in her raggedy shorts pajamas when he looked up at her. Her voice was gentle. "I'm fine. You don't have to be here."

John stood up and walked over to the window. "I do."

"I've got cops outside, following me around at work..."

"I'm in your bedroom, Joss, and they haven't moved."

Okay, he had a point, even if he was a special case. She watched as he turned away from the window and faced her, looking the same as he had the last time he'd been in here. Flashes of his kiss before she pushed him away bombarded her. Until she remembered the last time she'd seen him on her birthday.

"Finch is trying to come up with a lead on Maler. Between us and the cops, hopefully this'll be over soon."

She nodded, trying to come up with something to say. He was keeping his physical distance and it was jarring. In the days following dinner, he'd called and asked her for information here and there, but that was it. It bothered her even if it was her own doing, and she spent way too much time thinking he was avoiding her even though not hearing from him for days at a time wasn't out of the norm. She'd missed him, of course. Wondered if he'd gotten any memories back. And if he had, if he would have told her. Everything was off, different, and she wished she could go back to the way things were before his head injury. "Have you been okay? Remember anything?"

He shrugged. "Working. But no. Nothing yet."

She nodded again. Then her eyes followed him as he walked past her on his way out of her bedroom.

"I'll be downstairs." He paused at the entryway and looked back at her. "Get some sleep." At her nod, he shut the door halfway and made his way down the stairs.

Hell is what it was. Being so close to her, so close to her soft skin and her inviting bed, and being unable to touch her the way he wanted to. Having it take everything out of him not to do so.

Just pure hell.

He took his gun from the small of his back and set it on the side table as he sat down on the couch to prepare for a long night. She'd turned off all the lights save for one lamp in the living room that emitted a dim but sufficient glow. He willed Finch to call him, to send him somewhere after that asshole, so he could get the distance from Joss back. He had started to get used to it, at least that's what he told himself. But now he was going to have to press the reset button and start all over. Being near her did something to him that he was starting to hate, and he wondered how the hell he'd kept her at arm's length before his injury. Were he and his old self—the one with his memories intact—really that different? Tired of the mental gymnastics, John shut his thoughts down so he could focus on keeping her safe.

Not much time had passed when he heard light footsteps across the upstairs hallway before they travelled down the stairs. Joss soon rounded the corner, arms laden with blankets. She tossed one of them onto the couch beside him and dropped the rest onto the recliner. He watched as she grabbed the television remote from the ottoman and turned the tv on. It didn't take him long to realize what she was doing. "You don't have to stay up with me."

"You don't have to be here," she retorted as she unfolded one of the blankets and plopped down into the recliner underneath it.

John didn't have a rebuttal for that and managed to refrain from groaning. Distance. Why was she taking what little he had away from him?

Joss pressed the Netflix button on the remote, assuming John might want to watch an action movie or something. "Any requests?"

"No."

 _Figures_. She flipped through the action section and selected _Bad Boys II._ "This okay?"

"Whatever you want to watch, Joss. Even though you should be sleeping."

"It's only 9 o'clock. I'm not an old lady." When he didn't respond, she asked, "Seen this one before?"

"No, not that I can remember."

She winced. "Sorry, John."

He looked at her through the soft, dim light in the room. Prepared for sleep and still so damn beautiful. The tone of his voice matched that of his thoughts. "It's okay, Joss."

After flashing an apologetic smile his way, Carter returned her attention to the movie. Like she'd told him, it was too early to go to bed even if she had had an exhausting day. She was wired, and little pinpricks of worry needled at her. It was one thing to be a cop with an ever-present danger lurking while she did her job; it was another entirely to be specifically targeted by a loon with nothing to lose. More than that, though, John was here and she wanted to spend time with him while she could. She wanted to soak up that warm feeling she got when he was near before she faced another self-imposed drought.

Two hours later, the movie was still playing, but John had stopped paying attention. It was entertaining, sure, but Joss was more so. She had fallen asleep, curled up in the recliner, and he let his eyes and thoughts drift toward her.

He wanted to let his resolve go. He wanted to call her randomly during the day just to hear her voice, to drop by just to see her pretty face, to share his entire world with her and just be grateful he could call her his friend if nothing else. But he wanted love. He was no longer in the CIA. He no longer killed people for the government. Knowing he had Harold and Joss, even Zoe, in his small circle—normal people, good people—he knew walking in the dark wasn't the permanent condition Kara had told him it was.

Another two hours passed. He had quietly spoken with Finch who had found a lead on the highly reclusive fugitive that hadn't sounded promising. Reese had decided to stay put rather than chasing after it, really not trusting the two cops outside to keep Joss safe. He had turned the television off once he'd realized the movie was no longer playing, and soon it was just the quiet and him. He'd thought about carrying Joss up to her bed, but he didn't want to chance waking her up. She seemed to be sleeping soundly where she was anyway.

Thirty minutes into his quiet vigil, Reese turned his head at what was at first only a slightly discernible noise. Like metal against metal. He listened a few seconds more, pinpointing the location, before grabbing his gun and quickly and quietly heading through the kitchen to the back door. It opened slowly just as he took up position beside it. The dark figure entering didn't see him and didn't stand a chance. Reese pulled on the man's leading gun arm, dragging him into the kitchen before knocking the gun out of his hand. In a few seconds, he'd turned the intruder around, punched him as hard as he could across the jaw, sending his head into the corner of the kitchen countertop on his way down, knocking him out cold. Putting his gun at the small of his back, he stepped over the prone body and turned the kitchen light on. He walked back over, recognizing Dale Maler.

His jaw clamped shut and he breathed heavily through his nose as his fury slowly built. He looked at the door in which Maler had entered. No cops coming to investigate. He turned and walked back into the living room, squatting beside the recliner. "Joss." He shook her shoulder gently before sliding his thumb across her cheek. "Wake up." He took his hand away, the gentleness gone as quickly as it had come, when she jerked awake.

"Hmm? What?"

He gave her a few seconds to fully rouse and watched as she pulled the blanket away, acknowledging the look in his eyes.

"What?" she asked again.

He jerked his head toward the kitchen and she followed as he walked in that direction.

Her jaw dropped slightly when she saw who was unconscious on her kitchen floor. She looked up at John and then around at the still kitchen. She was wide awake now and three things were abundantly clear: John had probably saved her life once again, her police protection wasn't shit, and John was not happy about it

Reese finally spoke. "He shouldn't have gotten anywhere near your house."

Joss watched as he charged out of the kitchen, most likely heading toward her front door. "John." She hurried after him. "John." She pulled at his upper arm. "Wait. John." When he didn't stop, she darted past him and stood directly in front of the door, hands outstretched towards him. "Wait. What are you about to do?"

"Tell them how to do their goddamn jobs." He was furious. If he hadn't been here….

He started to reach around her when she stopped him. "You can't go out there. Did you forget what you do? What _I_ do? They're gonna want to know who you are. And how you got in here." He scoffed at that, but it looked like he was going to listen to her so she lowered her hands. "Okay? So, let me cuff him and I'll go out there. You should get lost."

She hurried to her work belongings on the accent table near the foyer and grabbed her handcuffs. Reese followed her to the kitchen and helped her restrain the still unconscious Maler. When they straightened back up, she looked at him expectantly. His eyes were still dark. A slate gray she'd never seen before. She waited to make sure he was going to get lost like she told him.

"I'll be upstairs."

She sighed. "Okay." They parted ways at the foyer. She waited for him to disappear up the stairs and then slipped on her flip flops by the door before turning on the rest of the living room lights and heading outside.

* * *

Reese sat in the darkness of Joss's bedroom, listening to the commotion that filled her lower level, the sirens from approaching nearby patrols who probably had nothing better to do at this late hour than to see if they could assist a fellow officer. He saw red and white flashing, too. Ambulance for Maler. He'd listened to all of it, texting Harold to let him know, if he didn't already, that their numbers were safe. Joss was safe. He vowed to get the names of the cops who'd let him and a crazed killer get past their "protection" and into Joss's home and plotted various ways to make sure they were reprimanded, better trained, or fired if Joss didn't take care of it. She could have been here, in this room, asleep, trusting her fellow cops to do their jobs. She could have not heard Maler creep up the stairs and into her room to put two bullets between her eyes like he did Doug Nader. And if she hadn't sent Taylor away? If Maler'd gone into his room, too?

Reese forced himself to breathe in deeply through his nose and out his mouth. Calming breaths. It was over, wasn't it? It was over. She was fine, her son was fine. He could relax now. It was over.

* * *

Joss finally made her way back up the stairs. Everybody had cleared out quickly, the crime scene being fairly self-explanatory: she was in the living room, couldn't sleep, heard him enter, caught him by surprise and knocked him out. It was around 3am now, she was wired and tired, and she still had to deal with John before she could even attempt sleep.

She turned the light on and saw him sitting in the same chair he'd been in before. God, this had been a long day. She walked toward him and he rose to his feet. He looked tired. And his mood was still dark. "They felt bad, John."

"Good."

Her exhaustion and desire to quell his stormy mood made her want to lean into him. Instead, she looked up at him, allowing the full weight of the last few hours to hit her. "Thank you. Again." She watched as all he did was stare at her for awhile. Maybe it wasn't just anger she was seeing. Maybe it was fear.

He sighed. "Did you always worry me like this?" He asked the question in all sincerity. He knew she was a grown woman, responsible for her own child, but something happening to her scared the hell out of him. Did he feel that same vehement fear, the same intense responsibility for her, before he lost his memory?

"Not on purpose." She took a step forward. His energy was drawing her in without her express permission, the urge to touch him, to be comforted by him, strong.

"I know." She had no idea, truly, what she did to him.

 _Good God._ His dark eyes, the way they were smoldering as if the slightest brush against his skin would set him back ablaze…. She stepped closer and placed her hands flat against his chest. And just stood there. Looking straight ahead at the V his buttoned white shirt made at the top of his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Why was she doing this? Why did she need to just….feel him?

John closed his eyes. Why was she doing this? He kept his arms to his sides, balling and un-balling his fists a few times, trying to control himself. Then he lowered his head next to hers. _Why_ was she doing this? He stilled. For what felt like an eternity. Breathing in her scent, feeling her hair tickle the side of his face. When she finally lifted her head, he lifted his and met her eyes.

He got his answer when she raised herself onto her tiptoes and dared him to meet her the rest of the way. She made him the weakest he'd ever been and would ever be. He thought this as he accepted the challenge and took her mouth.

This kiss felt different, was different, and both of them immediately knew it. This kiss soon entangled them. Minds, limbs, and tongues.

Carter saw herself doing the stupid thing she was not supposed to do. Like an out-of-body experience while still feeling every single thing he was doing to her. Everything his body made hers feel. She climbed him like a tree and he wrapped his arms tightly around her back to hold her in place.

Clothes didn't start coming off until he'd dropped them onto her bed. It was a struggle, the logistics nearly impossible to figure out when they couldn't stop touching but needed to in order to touch more. His took longer. Guns and buttons, undershirt and belt, socks and shoes all maddening obstacles. But they all came off, everything, settling somewhere on and off the bed or some place in between.

If they thought about this, about what they were doing, it would be over. This passion, this exceeding pleasure that made all their troubles—past, present, and future—become nonexistent. So neither of them thought about it, hastening and lengthening every touch, every kiss when the slightest hint of a distraction tried to enter their minds.

When wet fingers indicated she was ready, John delivered the final blow to good sense and reasoning and parted her thighs, slowing to enter her gently. That was it. Battle was over. Inside her as far as he could go, he held himself still, allowing himself to revel in the feelings. The purely physical ones along with the sensation of finally quelling ravenous desire. He soon needed friction, so he moved, wanting more the more of it he got. Moving faster and faster.

His intrusion made Joss's eyes water but she soon relaxed, grasping at his shoulders, mentally chanting his name as she lost herself in it, as her appetite for him thundered within her like he did. She didn't know she wanted it so fast until she got it. And then she wanted more. Rougher. Faster. She got vocal with her chants…. _John….Oh god….John…..Shit….._ started involuntarily digging her fingers into the skin at his waist. Wrapped her legs around his, held tight as he flipped himself onto his back and powered up into her.

No eye contact. None at all. It would only serve to overwhelm them emotionally like fucking was overwhelming them physically.

John had known what he was doing by changing their positions. He was almost spent and wanted her spent, and he would already be flat on his back when exhaustion took him. Gripping her to his chest with one arm, his free hand worked between them, quickly bringing her where he wanted her to be: wrecked and then gone. When she left him, he removed his hand, placing both hands on her butt, and drew his knees up higher, giving himself more leverage to drive himself home. Her name sounded between gritted teeth and he left, too.

When Joss came back, she was lying on top of him. He was already back, looking into her face. She felt good, but she knew it was only a matter of time. So did he by the look on his face. The longer she looked at him the less she could stand it, so she rolled onto her back beside him. The silence ticked by. It was probably almost four in the morning. She'd have a valid excuse for going in late today, but she still wanted to at least try to get some sleep. She sat up and waited for him to say something.

Reese sat up next to her moments later, the relaxation from sex ebbing as quickly as it had come. It was a bad move, sleeping with her. Exacerbating what was already a bad situation. Because he knew it wasn't going to change anything. Well, no, that wasn't true. Now they both knew exactly what they were going to be missing out on.

Hell. Like before. But worse.

He looked over at her. "You should try to get some sleep." He moved to get off the bed, searching for his clothes.

Watching him put on his underwear, Carter wanted him to go so she could do the inevitable post-mortem alone, but it was so late. "You don't have to go. It's so late." She looked around for her panties, finding them at the head of the bed. "Let's just go to sleep." She slid to the edge of the bed and pulled them on, standing up to settle them into place. She turned around and scanned the bed for her pajama top. "By the time you get home, the sun'll be up." She climbed halfway back onto the bed to grab the shirt, climbing back off to put it on. By the time she looked at John, he was putting his pants on. Apparently, he was passing on her invitation.

He looked at her. "I better go, Joss."

She reached out to touch his arm so that he would stop grabbing his clothes as he found them and looked into his eyes. "It's okay. Really."

A pained expression covered his face. It wasn't. It wasn't okay for him. He needed to go home, lick his wounds. But she made him so damned weak. He wanted to hold her as she fell asleep, as he fell asleep. He wanted to know she was safe. He wanted every second he could get with her even if it wasn't in the way he wanted.

While he stood there, looking at the floor, obviously fighting with himself, Joss walked over to the door and closed it, flipping the light switch off. She walked back over to the bed, folding down the rumpled linens, and climbed in. "Let's get some sleep," she repeated. She watched his still silhouette in the dark. She felt horrible. Putting him through this tumult, when he was already dealing with so much. This was her fault. He finally moved, dropping the clothes in his hands and pulling his pants back off before climbing into the bed. She moved into his side, taking comfort from him she knew she didn't deserve. He wrapped his arm around her and she felt him begin to relax. She fought back her tears, but she still got choked up. "I'm sorry, John."

John felt horrible, too. Putting her through this, something she wasn't ready for. Something his old self had obviously known. "It's my fault." He ran his fingers up and down her arm as he stared up at the ceiling, willing his mind to clear. Then, quieter, "Go to sleep."

Somehow, after awhile, she did.

* * *

"You okay, Carter? All that craziness from yesterday get to ya?"

Carter looked across the table at her partner. She supposed she should be grateful he'd waited until lunch to ask if she was okay. She wasn't. She felt a constant sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she thought about what she did last night. She replayed the events, her excuses, her pipe dreams, over and over. She was so distracted, she was thinking about calling it a day after she finished the report she was working on. Her lieutenant would understand considering she was almost killed by a coworker last night.

She thought about that morning. In the craziness of the night, she'd forgotten to turn the alarm clock off and it'd woken them both up earlier than they'd wanted. Six thirty. They'd probably only gotten a maximum of two hours of sleep. She'd noticed she was still in his armpit when she woke up to hurriedly turn the alarm off. John had stirred and she'd mumbled, "Sorry," before trying to go back to sleep on her side of the bed. She did almost immediately, and when she woke up again a few hours later, John was gone, having sent her a text at 8:13: _I hope you slept well_.

Five hours of interrupted sleep didn't do her much good and her thoughts raced from the moment she woke up alone. She had been tired. That was why it happened. He'd saved her life again and she was beyond grateful to him. He was so strong and protective and it had made him so sexy to her in that moment. That was why. She hadn't seen him in a while and seeing him again tripped her up. That was also why. The excuses were plentiful.

Then her mind went to damage control. Tried to think of the ways in which this wasn't a huge mistake. Tried to make it seem not so bad. Tried to see them making this thing that they were struggling to fight work. Taylor, her mom and friends accepting him. Fusco and Finch accepting them. Her coworkers being none the wiser about who exactly she was seeing. Zoe and Paul wishing them the best. His memory coming back and his still wanting to be with her.

Then she just saw the damage, everything going wrong, and her stomach sank.

She finally gave Fusco an answer. "Yeah, I'm just trying to….figure some things out."

"'Bout Maler?"

She lied and nodded.

"Wonderbo—John showed up right?"

She nodded again. "Yeah."

Fusco nodded, as if confirming something to himself. "Knew he'd be showing up as soon as he found out. Good thing, though, right?"

Joss nodded once more.

"Little thing like amnesia wasn't gonna change his ways."

Carter allowed herself a mild chuckle. Then Fusco cocked his head at her and what he said next shocked her.

"You know he's got a serious love jones for you, Carter. And it ain't just because he bumped his head."

Her knee jerk reaction was to laugh him off. Deny, deny, deny. But she caught herself before she did. The look on his face said it would be futile and she wasn't the best liar. Her voice was small and her eyes dropped to the leftovers on her plate, but she got it out. "I know." When she lifted her eyes, she watched as he nodded to himself. He probably wanted to ask more questions, see what she was thinking, but he spared her.

"You hear about what happened to Davis? Wife caught him with his girlfriend at the Chelsea flea market. Can you believe that?"

* * *

Friday came around finally and Joss was beyond grateful that she'd made it through the week. Being a crazy man's target and sleeping with John had taken its toll. She and Fusco had received a call about a murder victim and were in the process of going over the crime scene. It was their second murder case this week, the first one having been open and shut. This one, however, was going to involve some investigative work. How much or how little, they didn't know yet.

It wasn't long before she felt someone's eyes on her. She had an idea of who it was before she even chanced a glance in his direction. John. Instantly her palms got sweaty, stomach fluttered, and she felt the urge to squeeze her thighs together where she stood. She felt like everyone could see her reaction, so she ignored him and gave herself several seconds to regroup and mentally break the chains he had on her in that moment. Once she'd calmed herself down, she refocused, eyes searching the perimeter, mind going over her crime scene mental checklist.

Feeling another set of eyes on her, she looked up and made eye contact with Fusco. He'd spotted John, too, and turned to walk in the opposite direction with a patrol officer. She sighed. He obviously was going to make her go see what that tall, beautiful man wanted.

She tried to keep her cool, professional demeanor as she casually made her way over to the alley where John was waiting. Now wasn't the time or place to lose herself to the memories that had already made her panties wet. But when she approached him, he looked at her like he was remembering everything they'd done the last time they saw one another, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

John spoke first once she stopped a couple of feet in front of him, taking his eyes off her and glancing at the entrance to the alley. It didn't look like her partner was behind her. "Why is Fusco afraid of me?" he asked only semi-jokingly.

Relieved that he had broken the tension, she snorted softly and followed his line of sight briefly before turning back to him. "He's not. He's just not used to you being nice to him."

Reese turned to her. Slyly, he asked, "When am I ever not nice?" She looked at him skeptically, raising an eyebrow, and he smiled.

Joss shook her head at him. "I don't know what you two got going on. You didn't bother to tell us we were both working with you until we figured it out on our own. I don't know how you turned him."

Reese shrugged his shoulder apologetically, adding that bit of information to the long list of things he couldn't remember about his new life. Switching gears, he noticed she looked tired and wondered how she'd been sleeping. "You been okay?"

Carter nodded, remembering how good his rough hands felt all over her naked body, scolding herself as she thought it. "You?"

He shrugged again. It was better than lying to her, or telling her the truth when it wasn't the place and never would be the time. He tilted his head in the direction of the crime scene. "Any idea what happened?"

Joss looked at him a little longer than she should have. "Shot five times. Broad daylight so I'm sure somebody saw something. Got one witness said he heard an argument, probably between the victim and his killer. One of them had a strong southern accent. Victim's driver's license is New York, but he could've been a transplant." She eyed him curiously. "I'm guessing you already know his name and that's why you're here."

Reese nodded. "Following up on a lead. His business partner is our person of interest."

Carter squinted at him, her interest piqued. "If your guy's involved, you're a little late, aren't you?"

"Finch says we aren't. Something else must be brewing. May be related...or not."

She nodded. "We better hurry up then." She looked toward the exit of the alley. "I gotta get back. Let's touch base later." This was okay, she thought. This was what felt comfortable. Talking about work. But then he ruined the moment, nodding and staring at her in the same way he had moments before. Lord, they should not have done what they did. It had opened the floodgates or something because he looked like he wanted to take her up against the adjacent building's brick wall and she would have let him if Fusco wouldn't come looking for her after awhile. Good grief, what was happening to her?

"Give me a call when you're free." His eyes slipped to her mouth, wanting to, figuring he could probably get away with it, but knowing he shouldn't.

She nodded and neither one of them made any immediate moves to leave as they looked at each other.

"You should get back, Joss."

Carter mentally shook herself and nodded, quickly turning away without uttering a word. Then the weirdest feeling came over her, the feeling of knowing he wasn't about to let her leave just yet even though she was walking away. His grasp of her bicep was firm when he turned her around, and she watched helplessly as his mouth descended on hers before she closed her eyes and dug her fingers into his scalp.

Their surroundings, the completely inappropriate circumstances, faded into the background as they kissed frantically with abandon. This one, again, was different from the rest. This one said that whatever Joss was trying to fight, it was futile and she needed to get her shit together. Joss nodded, to herself, as she pulled her tongue back into her own mouth. She got the message. Loud and clear. Teeth and tongues gave way to just lips as they nipped at each other for a few seconds more. She settled back down onto her feet, lightheaded, and their mouths parted. When she looked into his eyes, saw his apology about to roll off that magnificent tongue, she shook her head at him. "I'll call you."

John watched her rush off. Joss Carter. Soldier, mother, detective….love of his life.

* * *

Carter went to her mother's house Sunday afternoon. Wanting to see his grandmother and his neighborhood friends, Taylor had tagged along, soon escaping across the street to play video games.

Joss desperately needed to talk. When she was young, her parents were fairly strict but loving. As she got older, however, her mom had become her best friend. She didn't always tell her things because her mother didn't sugarcoat, but most topics were fair game. John and what he did for a living, and her involvement with him, was the biggest secret she'd ever kept from her. It was something she needed to tell her now, something she couldn't lie about, or omit, anymore. If she couldn't be honest with the people closest to her about him, she and John would never make it. And even though his amnesia was still a problem, a big problem, she knew it wasn't their biggest obstacle. The lies, the secrets, those were. John was different, yes, but he was still the same at his core. Same heart, same sense of humor and honor. All the amnesia had done was uninhibit him.

"Hey."

"Hmm?" Carter looked over at her mother as they both sat on the couch.

"What's the matter?"

Joss took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't know which way this was going to go. But it was highly possible she was about to get her neck wrung for risking her job and freedom by working with John, let alone falling for the man. Rip the Band-Aid off, she told herself. Rip it off. "You remember my friend, John? The one who got Taylor back for me?"

Beverly nodded.

Joss started to tell her about the amnesia but stopped herself. She should get the worst of it out of the way first, so she blurted it out before she lost her nerve. "He's a vigilante. Basically. He helps people in bad situations."

Her mom nodded again, seemingly unbothered by this revelation. "What, like a mercenary?"

Joss shook her head. "No, he just helps people. Him and his partner." She watched her mother nod once more, clearly wondering where she was going with this.

"So, I'm assuming the police don't know what he does, and you're not supposed to know."

"Pretty much. Fusco and I help him, and he helps us."

Beverly raised her eyebrows and cocked her head slightly. "Really. You two know what you're doing?"

"John's saved a lot of people, Mom. Me and Taylor included. It's why we do it."

"And he's just doing this out of the goodness of his heart?"

Joss knew that question was coming. She had often wondered about that herself when she first learned exactly what the man in the suit was doing. "He was in the CIA. I think he's trying to make up for things."

Beverly nodded yet again. It was becoming her signature move during this confessional. Then she frowned. "And when did he save you? What have you not told me?"

"A few times, Mom. Including this last thing. With that cop, Maler, who had the hit list. John came over to look out for me, and he was there when Maler broke in."

Beverly pinned her with a stern look, worry etched in the subtle lines of her face. "You never told me he broke in."

"I know. I know how you worry. The cops think I knocked him out before he could shoot me. But I was asleep. It was John." She watched her mother sigh, that long-suffering, _I really want to wring your neck_ sigh that she had perfected and Joss had co-opted with her own child.

"What else?"

It was Carter's turn to sigh, that sigh of a daughter who didn't want to talk about something but had no choice since she was dealing with her mama. "Just a couple other times. While I was working. He just tries to have my back when he can." She saw her mother shake her head in long worn aggravation. She knew her mother had never really liked her propensity for risky jobs, even though she always tried to be supportive.

"Okay, Joss. Why are you telling me this now? Are you and Lionel in trouble for helping him?"

Carter shook her head and her eyes fell to the floor. _Rip it off, girl._ "I couldn't keep all that from you anymore because we're…." What were they exactly? How could she explain it? "...not just friends….anymore."

Her mother closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, like she just _knew_ that was where Joss was going with this and needed to temper her reaction.

It felt like a lot of time passed but it was probably only a few seconds. Finally her mother looked at her and she met her eyes.

"You're grown, Joss. I can't tell you what to do. But this….." She shook her head. "This makes me nervous."

Joss breathed an internal sigh of relief. Her neck remained unwrung. "I know. Me, too."

"What about Taylor?"

Joss shrugged. "He doesn't know yet."

"I don't mean that. Is he going to be safe?"

"Yes." Joss answered more forcefully than she intended, feeling her parenting abilities were being questioned. "Probably safer than with just me and Paul. You think Daddy was overprotective, you haven't seen John."

Her mother sighed again. "How long have you been involved with this….crusade? How long have you known him?"

"About two years now."

"Is he white?"

Carter could tell by the tone of her voice that she figured he was. "Yeah. And, no, I didn't think I'd end up with one either." A tiny laugh escaped her at the look on her mother's face and Beverly joined in. After their short-lived mirth died down, Joss slid over to her mom, leaning her head on her shoulder. No matter how old she got, sometimes she still needed that comfort from her mommy. Beverly wrapped her arm around her daughter and soothingly ran her hand up and down Joss's arm. "He's a good one, Mama. I'm not just saying that."

"I know you've always wanted to help people. To your own detriment sometimes. Just like your father. So this man John must be the flame to your moth." After a beat, she added, "I do not like this. At all. I'm scared for you. So you be careful, you hear me? _Be careful._ "

"I will. I promise."

Concluding that she was getting off easy, Joss decided that there was no way in hell she was about to tell her mom about the amnesia right now. Maybe he'd get his memory back before she ever had to. Because it was only going to make all of this, her, look even more insane. She could hear her mother now: _"Not only are you a cop dating a practical fugitive, he doesn't even remember who you are?!"_ Nah, she was good. That shit could wait for another day.

* * *

Later that evening, Joss dropped Taylor off at home, telling him she had an errand to run and would be back in a couple of hours. Pulling away from the curb after Taylor safely closed himself inside the house, she dialed John's number.

"Joss?"

"Where are you?"

"Home. Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll be there in fifteen." She hung up before he could say anything else or ask any other questions.

It took her twenty-five. And felt like an hour and twenty-five. She was too anxious to talk to him. And giddy. The feeling felt foreign to her. But it was because she felt it finally. Settled and calm. Off of the rollercoaster ride. At peace with herself.

When she reached his door and knocked, she hoped she'd see that same look on his face. The one he'd been giving her since he first met her. The one she used to write off and act like she wasn't seeing. He opened the door and, underneath the concern, it was there. That was when she threw caution to the wind and stepped up to him, pulling him down into a kiss. He was taken by surprise but he did what he did best and quickly adapted.

She was lifted from the floor a few inches as he pulled them inside, closing the door and settling her back against it. He tasted of rum and something sweet. Pineapple, mango maybe? It was a delicious combination that made her feel tipsy, and the heat and pressure from his body made her want to cry. It felt so good being in his arms. It felt so right. And now that her inhibitions were gone, it felt perfect.

She pulled away and settled back onto her feet. Breathless, she'd forgotten the speech she wanted to give him as she framed his face with her hands. "Let's do it. Let's try." All he did was look at her with a bewildered expression, like he was wondering where the indecisive Joss he knew had run off to. So, she tried to explain. "We're not getting any younger and…." She thought back to the last conversation she'd had with him at his place. "Like you said, I'm just as crazy as you are."

He was still looking at her like he'd never seen her before and she instantly began to worry. What was wrong now? Had something happened? There was no way he had forgotten her again. "What is it?"

He shook his head quickly. Then he framed her face with his hands and kissed her. Slowly and deliberately, and she began to relax. He was okay, they were okay. When he pulled away, he stared into her eyes, hands still on her face, before the most beautiful grin she'd seen pulled at his lips and sparkled his eyes. "I remember."

Two words that almost made her knees buckle. She was speechless.

"I remember meeting you. Both times."

His smile became contagious and she felt her eyes start to brim with tears. "Are you serious?"

John nodded. His eyes scanned her face and then his smile disappeared, seriousness taking over his features. "And they felt the same."

Carter was overwhelmed by multiple feelings. Joy, curiosity, even a little fear. She wanted him to regain his memories, but did he still want her the same? Which John was she dealing with now? A less troubled one? Did these past several weeks without the worst of his demons change him permanently? Or just a little? Not at all? Which John did she even want? She put a stop to her selfish thoughts and refocused on him. "When did it happen? How do you even feel? Are you okay?" Not waiting for him to answer, she took his hands from her face, grasping one and leading him to his couch. She sat on it but he opted to sit on the coffee table across from her. His face was animated as he launched into the story.

"I'm fine….I was just sitting there….." He indicated where she was sitting. "...on my phone and this…..thought just hit me. That you were probably right about that chicken joint over on West 38th. That it was probably terrible."

Carter put her hand over her mouth, laughter competing with the urge to cry happy tears. She remembered telling him that the last time she spoke with him. Before his head injury.

"And then everything…." He shook his head to himself as he recalled the strange feeling that had overcome him. "...came back. All at once, in these…..flashes. It's like I can't even remember exactly what I forgot anymore."

She shook her head in awe. She still couldn't believe it almost. But she was so happy for him. So happy. "Did it happen just now?"

He nodded. "Not long before you called."

"Do you feel okay? Back to normal? Different?"

"I don't know." He looked at her. The smile on her face, the tears in her eyes. How in the hell did he get so lucky? He got down onto his knees in front of her, his hands lightly running up and down her calves. "I know I still want you. I always have."

Joss blushed and looked down at her lap. Old John and New John together was about too much. She liked him so far, but it was still too much. She finally looked up at him, changing the subject. "Have you told Finch yet?"

"I will." He took her by the hands and pulled them both to their feet, engulfing her in his arms as they stood there.

She felt that urge to cry again because of how perfect it was, and she couldn't believe she had it. Couldn't believe where they were just a month ago compared to now. She could have stayed there forever, smelling his cologne, feeling his heartbeat. She almost told him she loved him. The words were on the tip of her tongue but it had already been such a heavy day for him. It could wait until the next time she was feeling this vulnerable. Instead, she squeezed him tighter.

She felt his chest vibrate with his next words.

"I also know that I still love you, Joss."

He made her damn tears fall freely with that one. She laughed, trying to make them stop and it came out as a hiccup within a sob. "Stop making me cry. You know I don't do this."

"Okay."

She could hear the smile in his voice in that one word.

He pushed her away from his chest, using his thumbs to swipe at the wetness on her cheeks before he kissed her forehead, her nose, then her lips.

When his tongue forced its way into her mouth, she knew immediately how he was about to make her stop crying. It worked quickly, too, and she had not one objection to consummating their new relationship.

His hands ran up and down her sides, her back. They squeezed her backside. "Do you have to go right now, Joss?" He whispered it tantalizingly when he pulled back, darkened eyes looking into hers as his hands slipped underneath her shirt.

God, the way he said her name sometimes. The way his hands felt against her bare skin. Even if she did have to go right now, she wouldn't be going anywhere. "Not right now," she whispered back.

He lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. "Sure?" His seducing hands unhooked her bra underneath her shirt.

She nodded, deciding to let him act like he was giving her a choice. "Pretty sure," she moaned. He stopped and looked into her eyes and she saw it all: lust, love, life. And she remembered the loss she felt when she found out he couldn't remember her. "Please don't ever forget me again, John."

He nodded. "I'll try not to." Then he kissed her softly to seal the deal. "But if I do…I'll always find my way back to you."

And she believed him. Because he already did.

~End

 _A/N: As always, thank you for checking this out. And thanks so, so much for the kind reviews._


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